Tell Me the One
by The Disreputable Writer
Summary: In End!verse, Inias chooses to fall in order to be with Castiel. Dean gets jealous, but he eventually realizes that Cas needs Inias just as Dean needs Cas. And Dean might just need both of them. Dean/Cas/Inias
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is End!verse, so there will be a lot of swearing and drug use/abuse throughout this fic. There is one brief sexual scene in the second chapter, and a long, explicit sex scene at the end. As per this site's rules, I am going to cut both sex scenes out of this version of the fic (I know I have a few sexy scenes in my other fics, but this is quite a bit more explicit than anything else I've written, and I'd rather not get banned). If you want to read the full version, it is posted at my Livejournal here (just take out the spaces): http :/wallmakerrelict .livejournal .com /23167. html**_  
_**

* * *

_Tell me the one about twenty-fourteen  
In the fast-closing gap between Heaven and Hell  
Where a once-righteous man came apart at the seams_  
_And two brothers in arms held his hands as they fell_

* * *

Dean would never admit it, but he always slept best when Cas spent the night. When they'd first arrived at Camp Chitaqua, there had been no talk of living together. They weren't fucking married, after all. Dean had claimed his cabin and Cas had settled into his. They were far enough from each other that they had their own space, and close enough that either one of them could easily close the gap when they wanted a little intimacy. It worked. But on those nights that Cas didn't feel like making the short walk back to his own cabin, when he dozed off in Dean's bed wearing an expression of post-coital bliss, Dean sometimes wished that he could spend every night in Cas's arms.

So when Dean blinked himself awake that night, the eastern horizon just beginning to lighten, to find Cas not by his side, he immediately felt the loss. Dean tipped his head up and found Cas sitting on the edge of the bed, his bare feet on the cold wooden floor, his body rigid. Even though Dean could only make out a silhouette, he could see in the angles of Cas's profile that something was wrong.

Dean ran his hand down Cas's arm. Cas didn't move. "Bad dream?" Dean asked.

Cas finally turned, slowly, and looked at Dean. His voice sounded very far away when he said, "I have to go."

"What?" said Dean, but Cas was already on his feet and heading for the door. Cursing under his breath, Dean rolled out of the warm sheets, grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair, and followed Cas outside into the cold morning air. "Where the hell are you going?" Dean called after him.

Cas didn't break stride as he made his way toward the fleet of trucks. "Don't worry, Dean," he said without turning, "I'll be right back."

"Aren't you even gonna get dressed?" Besides the coat Dean had grabbed, they were both in nothing but their boxers.

This time Cas didn't even answer. He got into one of the trucks, fished the key out of the center console, fired it up, and drove away.

Dean was too baffled to even begin to stop him. He stood there in the wet grass, shivering, and listened to the sound of the truck's engine fade into the distance. "Son of a bitch," he sighed.

* * *

Dean didn't tell anyone that Cas had gone. It wasn't unusual for Cas to sleep entire days away, so no one really noticed that he was missing. Unwilling to worry anyone, Dean silently fretted all morning and into the afternoon over where Cas might have gone and whether or not he should go after him.

"Something wrong?" asked Chuck as he fiddled with one of their radios. It was lunchtime, and Risa was handing out cans of food. Many of them were missing their labels.

Dean worked open his mystery meal with a pocket knife as he replied, "Why do you ask?" The top of the can peeled away. Peaches. He handed the open can to Chuck with a grimace and edged back into line for a different one.

Chuck glanced at the can of peaches in his hand and shrugged. "You seem even more scowly than usual," he said. And then, as the radio crackled to life, "Oh! Hey!"

A few people abandoned their places in line to huddle around the radio, their hunger for contact with the outside world momentarily outweighing their hunger for food. For several minutes there was nothing but short bursts of speech breaking through the static, but eventually Chuck managed to make it listenable.

**…early this morning. Projections indicate that the meteorite likely landed near Monmouth, Illinois. Experts are calling the circumstances of the impact 'anomalous,' though it remains to be seen…**

Dean scoffed as he picked up a new can of food and returned to the group by the radio. "We finally pick up a clear signal and it's the fucking Weather Channel? Turn it off."

Chuck ignored him. "Monmouth isn't too far from here," he said.

Something began to itch at the back of Dean's brain, as though it were telling him that there was something important that he hadn't quite put together. He brushed the feeling aside and said, "So what? Are you gonna go looking for it?" He opened his new can as he walked outside, leaving the sounds of the radio behind. Beans. He always ended up with beans. But there was no one left to trade with, so he fashioned the lid into a spoon and began to eat.

* * *

Cas came back just as the sun was beginning to go down. The roar of the approaching truck engine made everyone who heard it freeze uncertainly, except for Dean, who breathed a sigh of relief. "It's okay!" he shouted to his nervous soldiers, "It's Cas."

He went to meet the truck at the gate. Cas beamed at him through the open window. Each truck was equipped with shock blankets, and he had draped one around his bare shoulders like a cape. "Hello, Dean," he said.

Dean found it very hard to stay mad when Cas was smiling like that. "Where the fuck have you been?" he demanded, even as his lips curled up to match.

As Cas parked the truck, half a dozen onlookers came up behind Dean to find out what was going on. Cas hopped out and jogged purposefully around to the passenger-side door. Then, all at once, Dean and the others realized that Cas had not come alone.

Seven side arms left their holsters in an instant. "Cas!" Dean warned, his pistol pointed at the ground but ready to raise at the slightest provocation, "What the fuck do you think you're doing, bringing someone here? You know the rules. What if they're infected?"

Heedless of the guns pointed his way, Cas opened the door and helped his passenger down to the ground. It was a slight, dark-haired man. He was also wrapped in a shock blanket, but he looked to be completely naked underneath it. He peered around at the camp and the crowd curiously. He seemed a little dazed, as if he had just woken up. Cas's hand rested comfortably at the small of the man's back, and he was gazing at him fondly.

"I assure you that he poses no danger," said Cas, "This is Inias. He is an angel."

After a long, tense moment, Dean turned to the people behind him and gave them a nod. One by one, they put away their weapons. Dean did the same as he approached Cas and Inias, both of whom were staring at him mildly, as if there were nothing strange going on at all.

Dean sighed, giving in to the absurdity of the day. "Okay," he said, "Fine. Now will you two please put some pants on?"

* * *

Cas took Inias back to his cabin and put him to bed, where he proceeded to sleep for two days straight. Cas abstained from his usual schedule of drugs, drugs, booze, and more drugs in order to keep watch over him. Dean brought Cas food on the first day of his vigil and found him slouched in a chair, his elbows on his knees, staring at Inias's sleeping face like he was trying to work out a great puzzle.

"Hungry?" said Dean, and Cas jerked at the sound of his voice, startled.

Then he smiled. "Thanks, fearless leader," he said, taking the can of chili that Dean was offering him. Dean had opened six cans to find one that contained some form of beef.

Inias's face was serene and his body motionless. "Is he gonna be okay?" said Dean.

Cas nodded and shrugged at the same time. "There's no manual for this," he said, "But you remember how much I slept when the other angels first left. It's difficult, being cut off from Heaven. It takes a while to get used to it."

Dean sat on the floor at the foot of the bed, angling himself so he could see both Cas and Inias. "So," he said, "He's like you? Cut off? I mean, Heaven didn't send him to drag you back, right?"

"No," said Cas, his voice becoming quieter and sadder with each word, "There is no more free passage between Heaven and Earth. In order to get here, Inias must have thrown himself out of the sky, knowing that there would be no return. He is an angel now, but his grace will fade just as mine did. He will become like me."

Dean and Cas both glanced at Inias, almost as if they expected him to wake up. When Dean finally looked away, he asked, "Why do you think he did it?"

"I haven't the slightest idea," said Cas.

* * *

The next day, Dean brought more food only to find that Cas had shoved a dresser crossways in a corner of the room and fallen asleep curled up in the triangular nook behind it. When Dean tried to wake him, he only giggled uncontrollably for five minutes before falling back to sleep, so Dean took up the watch over Inias and ate all the food out of spite. It was beans again. It was always beans.

Though he tried to keep his eyes on his string beans, Dean soon found himself gazing at Inias's sleeping face. Dean hadn't ruled out the possibility that Inias was a spy, but the longer he watched him the less likely it seemed. With his floppy hair and dark-ringed eyes, Inias looked even less like an angel of the Lord than Cas ever had. He looked tired. Not for the first time, Dean wondered what could possibly make an angel choose to fall, to give up an eternity in Heaven for a few measly decades on a dying Earth.

A few measly decades, that is, if you didn't get killed before that.

Dean was so deep in thought that when Inias suddenly opened his eyes, Dean almost dropped his can of beans. Very calmly, as if he had just been napping, Inias brushed the bangs out of his face, sat up, and studied Dean curiously. "Where is Castiel?" he asked.

"Uhhh…" said Dean. He considered telling Inias that Cas was behind the dresser, but somehow he thought that Cas might like to make a better impression on his old friend than that. "He'll be back soon. He left me to look after you."

"Oh," said Inias as he took in the one-room cabin. His eyes flicked here and there uncertainly. "Where am I?" he finally asked.

It hadn't been Dean's plan to babysit a fallen angel today, but there wasn't much he could do about it now that Inias was awake and there was no one else lining up for the job. "Camp Chitaqua," he said, "Come on. I'll show you around."

It wasn't until Inias stood up that Dean realized that Cas had put him to bed the day before without giving him any clothes. Dean spun around and faced the wall, saying, "Pants! First, pants!"

Fucking angels.

* * *

Introducing Inias to the Chitaqua crowd had been a little awkward, but people had warmed up to him once they were sure that he wasn't a demon or a Croat. By the time it started to get dark, they had even put together a little welcome party for the newcomer complete with a bonfire and food that hadn't come directly out of a can. For once in a very long time, there was an air of happiness in the camp.

"Hey, 'Nias!" said Yeager. He had been picking at his guitar for the last half-hour, and now he held it out to Inias. "Play us something."

Inias took the guitar as if it were made of glass and said, "I don't know how."

"You're an angel, right?" said Dean, who was a little tipsy by that point, "Isn't it just like playing a harp?"

"I don't know how to play a harp either," said Inias, clearly confused, "But this is an interesting instrument." He turned the guitar over in his hands twice, and then settled it on his lap slightly askew. He plucked at each string, and then again, walking his fingers up each fret. He listened to every note that the guitar could play, and he did it so purposefully that no one said a word in the meantime.

Once Inias had completed his examination of the guitar, he nodded to himself in satisfaction and suddenly began to play.

Inias played guitar like no one else had ever played guitar. All at the same time, he picked notes, he strummed chords, he pinged out harmonics, and he even plucked at the short lengths of string between the nut and the tuning keys. He drummed on the body and tuned the strings up and down as he went, all so quickly that it seemed as though his hands were flying. At first it sounded like nothing but noise, and there was a collective wince, but soon the dissonant notes began to resonate and music began to well up through the cacophony. It didn't sound like a guitar being played. It didn't sound like anything of this Earth. Dean felt his teeth rattle with the power of it, the way Cas's true voice had once shaken his bones. This was the music of the angels, somehow reproduced in a way that humans could just barely appreciate.

The music hadn't been going on long before the door to the cabin cracked open and Cas emerged. He was rubbing his eyes and blinking owlishly, but when he saw Inias there, illuminated by the fire, his hands dancing over the steel strings of the guitar, Cas suddenly came wide awake. He walked toward the fire as if in a trance, swaying so dramatically in time to the music that he was almost stumbling, and the way his lips moved around each note made Dean think that Cas must have known all the words to this song.

Cas wound his way up to the fire. Inias played, his eyes closed and his face full of emotion. Dean was about to call out to Inias that Cas was there, but then the song abruptly ended and Inias turned around as if he had sensed Cas coming all along. Which, Dean supposed, he probably had.

"Hello, brother," said Inias. He said the words the way he had played the guitar, with oceans of meaning behind every syllable.

"Inias," Cas whispered.

For a moment, Dean thought the two would embrace, but the way they looked at each other it was almost as if they had no need for physical contact. Cas held Inias's gaze so intensely that Dean was sure they must be having an entire telepathic conversation.

And then, as if they had said all that needed to be said, Cas sat down next to Inias – so close that their knees and elbows were almost touching, but not quite – and Inias began to play a new song.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean had forgotten what it was like to have an angel around.

Inias was still nearly at full power, and once Cas had explained to him how quickly he would become human, he was almost eager to use up his mojo. "I don't want to become human," he explained to Dean, when asked, "But if I must, then I'd like to use what remains of my power on something worthwhile."

So Dean assigned him to help out in the hospital. Wounds that would ordinarily have taken weeks of recovery time, Inias healed with a single touch. Morale shot through the roof.

Missions became easier too. Instead of venturing into unknown territory with a convoy of trucks (and often fighting their way back out), Inias simply teleported one or two people to the location of their choosing. They grabbed what they needed, and they got out. Mortality for missions dropped to zero. The camp's larders quickly filled.

Things were good.

And, as he always did when things were good, Dean grew uneasy.

* * *

There was something about the way that Inias looked at Cas.

He clearly loved him. That much was obvious in how he brightened every time Cas came into a room, the way he made excuses to touch him, and the fact that sometimes he still called him "Captain" even after Cas had explained that their angelic hierarchy no longer applied. But that was to be expected. They were family, after all.

But the way he looked at him was something else entirely. It was beyond respect, beyond fealty. It bordered on reverence. In turn, Cas sometimes stared back at Inias with the same fascination that he had once reserved only for Dean.

"So," said Dean when he had finally managed to get Inias alone, "You and Cas are, like, brothers?" Not very subtle, but luckily Inias was almost as bad at picking up the subtleties of human intention as Cas was.

"Yes," said Inias idly. Then, tilting his head, "Well, of a sort. We say 'brother,' but of course we are adapting out own language into a form that you can understand. The true word is something closer to 'comrade,' without the political implications that the word carries in English."

"Huh," said Dean, "Huh."

But it didn't really start driving him up the wall until they started speaking Enochian with each other.

They huddled together during mealtimes, speaking softly and conspiratorially. They sat out on the porch of the cabin they now shared, chasing pills with beer and shouting out jokes that no one else on Earth understood. Their voices were deep and rich. The words poured out of Cas like a dam had been broken, like it had been hurting him to hold them back all these years. When Dean heard Cas speak Enochian, he was reminded that the slow, stilted, almost archaic way he spoke English was not his true speech. And then he was forced to remember that even the Enochian that rolled so easily off Cas's tongue was only an approximation of the awesome voice Cas had once possessed. That no matter how human Cas had become, he had once been an angel: a being of pure light and power.

It was at times like these that Dean felt as though Cas were slipping away from him.

And the worst was when, every once in a while, both Cas and Inias would get very quiet and, one at a time, their eyes would flicker over to Dean. Then they would look away, Inias would whisper something in Cas's ear, and Cas would laugh as though he knew he shouldn't be laughing. Dean was far too proud to ask them what they were talking about, so his mind gladly filled in all the worst possibilities for him.

* * *

A few weeks in, Inias lost his power of healing. Cas promised that he would cheer him up, but Dean was pretty sure Cas was just planning on giving him a bunch of booze. Sure enough, when Dean went by Cas's cabin later that night and peeked in the window, the floor was strewn with bottles and the two ex-angels were staggering drunk.

"Wait, wait," Cas said – Dean could hear everything through the gap in the doorjamb. "Almost finished." Cas was kneeling by the wall. At first Dean thought that he was painting, but then he craned his neck and realized that Cas had cut the palm of his hand open and was drawing an angel-banishing sigil. Inias stood in the center of the room, swaying slightly and looking apprehensive.

Dean almost barged in, but then he thought better of it. Cas may have been a spacey, druggy mess these days, but he wasn't stupid. Whatever he was doing, it was for a reason. Dean stayed by the window and watched.

When Cas slapped his bloody hand flat against the sigil, a blinding light flashed out of it, bowing around Cas and seeking out Inias. It hit him in the gut, doubling him over and sending him skidding across the room. He hit the wall and crumpled to the floor.

Cas ran to his side, chuckling, "See what I meant?"

As Inias let Cas help him to his feet, he held his stomach and sucked in little whimpering breaths until he got his wind back. When he was finally able to draw in a full breath, he let it out as a helpless laugh. They both collapsed on the floor, still in each other's arms, and laughed until they were winded again.

Dean couldn't see them when they were lying down, not without pressing his face to the glass, and he really didn't want to get caught spying. Luckily, he could still hear them through the doorjamb as their laughter petered out and stopped.

"Inias?" said Cas, "Why are you here?"

"I live here," Inias mumbled. His voice was muffled, as if his face were pressed into something. Like the carpet. Or a pillow. Or Cas.

"Not here in the cabin," said Cas, "Here on Earth."

There was silence for a while, and then there was a rustling of fabric and Inias's voice became clear. "You're my Captain," he said, "I would have followed you anywhere."

"And Anael?" said Cas, "She was your Captain before me, but you didn't follow her when she fell."

Silence again, and then Cas made a little noise of contentment, making Dean wonder what Inias was doing to answer the question.

Inias sprang back to his feet, and Dean stopped worrying about what was going on in there long enough to jerk away from the window and avoid being seen. "Give me the knife," Inias requested.

A hand appeared from the direction of the floor, holding a switchblade up for Inias. Inias did as Cas had done, slicing his hand and painting a new sigil beside the first.

Slowly, Cas picked himself up off the floor and stood in the middle of the room, looking even more apprehensive than Inias had in his place. "I don't know," he said, "I haven't tried that on myself in years."

Inias just smiled as he pressed his hand to the wall. Cas closed his eyes and flinched just the tiniest bit in anticipation, but then, nothing. No light. No concussive force. Cas's eyes flew open in surprise, and then narrowed again as he realized what it meant.

The angel-banishing sigil hadn't worked because there was no angel in the room to banish. There was no magic in it. Just a handprint on a wall.

Cas tried to laugh the way he had laughed when Inias was bowled over, but it was hollow this time, and it soon broke down into harsh barks that sounded close to being sobs. Inias closed the gap between them in three steps, scooping Cas into his arms, his bloodied hand leaving streaks of red across the back of Cas's shirt. This time, when they overbalanced and fell to the floor, there was only silence.

Dean's ears were ringing, and the ground felt uneven beneath his feet as he walked away.

* * *

That night, Dean was awoken by an explosion.

As he kicked his way out of bed and upright, all traces of sleepiness gone in an instant, he feared the worst. It was his job to fear the worst. They had managed to instill a healthy respect for Camp Chitaqua in the nearby populations of Croats, but if those bastards were finally making a proper attack then the results could be catastrophic.

He was out the door in seconds. The night was dark and quiet. The front gate was intact. The grounds were deserted except for the heads poking one by one out of the other cabins and looking around for the source of the original noise.

What the Hell?

The silence was broken by the faint sound of breaking glass. Dean whipped his head around, and then his heart fell through his stomach as he realized that the sound had come from the direction of Cas's cabin.

He ran. What would he find when he arrived? Had the Croats only bombed one cabin as a message to the survivors? Had Inias gotten into the armory and accidentally taken home a grenade? Had Cas been trying to cook meth again and this time had it blown up in his face?

Every window was blown out of the cabin, and the door stood crooked. Even the walls looked like they had been bowed out a little. Dean opened the door, dreading what he might see, but instead of carnage he found himself faced with the one thing that he hadn't thought of. In hindsight, though, it really made the most sense.

Cas lay in bed with Inias, both of them quite safe, their limbs twined loosely together as they sighed out the last throes of the orgasms that had nearly destroyed the cabin. Cas recovered first and propped himself up on his elbows to stare fondly down at Inias's still-senseless face. Dean looked closely. There was a cold blue light behind Inias's eyelids, and in his mouth, under his fingernails – any place where the skin was thin enough to let what was left of his grace show through. Dean recognized it as the same thing that had happened the night he had taken Cas's virginity.

"Inias," said Cas softly as he admired the pulsing light.

And then the light was gone and it was just the two of them. Their hands found each other's faces, holding on as if in disbelief, never breaking eye contact even when Cas leaned down and kissed Inias, drawing from his lips a litany that sounded almost like a prayer: "Castiel. Castiel."

Dean stood motionless just inside the doorway, clearly invading this very private moment, but unable to figure out what he should do. His brain was telling him one thing, his heart another, and his dick something else entirely. Finally, it was all he could do to clear his throat and awkwardly call out, "Cas!"

They were so wrapped up in each other that neither of them so much as spared him a glance. "Kinda busy here, Dean," was all Cas said.

Dean slammed the door so hard on his way out that it wobbled and fell off its hinges.

* * *

Cas and Inias didn't leave their cabin at all the next day, so they missed the extremely frustrating process of fixing the generators that had suddenly and inexplicably died and replacing every light bulb in a fifty-meter radius of their bed. Then, just as the last new bulb was screwed in and the last shard of glass swept away, another shockwave emanated from the cabin and knocked everything out again.

Dean refused to talk to either of them, so it was Risa who finally took it upon herself to shout through their open doorframe, "Would you two knock it off? Or at least find a nice bunker to fuck in so you don't keep breaking shit? Jesus Christ!"

All that came out of the cabin in the form of an answer was a loud round of laughter, and later a few clouds of pungent smoke, and still later another shockwave.

"I'm really happy for you assholes, but we are _running out of light bulbs!_" Risa screamed this time.

As she stomped away to begin cleaning up again, Dean caught her by the arm. "You want to blow off some steam tonight?" he asked, giving her his best seductive smolder.

Risa's look of exasperation was immediately replaced with a cocked eyebrow and a knowing smirk. "Don't you think that's a little childish?" she asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Dean.

"Uh huh," said Risa sarcastically, "Dean, if you're jealous, just talk to him." She patted him on the chest and walked away.

Dean was not jealous. And if he was, he certainly didn't want to talk about it.

Cas came to him that night the way he always did: by slipping silently through the door just after Dean had gotten into bed but before he had fallen asleep. He sat on the edge of the bed and waited for Dean to invite him under the covers. But this time, Dean just lay there as if he hadn't noticed Cas's entrance.

They were silent for nearly a minute, waging a miniature war over who would be the first one to speak, before Dean finally said, "You think you can still get it up after all the fun you had today?"

"That's the great thing about Viagra," Cas answered with a grin.

Dean sat upright with a snarl of, "Dammit, Cas! You think this is funny?"

Cas's smile faded only a little as he said, "I'm confused. Should I be apologizing for something?"

Dean opened his mouth to speak before he even realized that he didn't know what he was going to say. What could he accuse Cas of? Spending too much time with his old friend? Speaking his native language? Having sex? Finally he settled for, "You know damn well."

"Yes, I do," Cas sighed. He kept his smile, trying to make it all sound like a joke, but something in his voice told Dean that Cas understood the resentful turn that this conversation was taking. "I know. I know that it's never been enough for you that I love you best. That you also need for me to love you only. But that you also need to feel free to disregard me whenever you choose, to deny what we have between us, to fuck other people and lie when they ask you if you are in love with me."

Dean reeled a bit, not having expected such a pointed response. "You knew what you were getting into with me," he managed to say, "I just don't want you going around behind my back."

Cas chuckled, "Like with the women who come to my orgies? That never seemed to bother you. You should really join in, by the way. It'd help you relieve some stress."

"That's different and you know it," said Dean.

"Why?"

"Because you're not in love with them!" Dean growled, feeling like an overdramatic teenager confronting his boyfriend about his infidelities.

Cas was still grinning madly when he cringed and spread his hands mockingly. "Oooh!" he groaned, "So close! But no, my love for Inias isn't your problem. What really gets you is that Inias knew me before. You like to think that I sprang into being the moment we met – a guardian angel put on Earth just for you. Inias reminds you that I am older than you can possibly imagine. You've gotten so used to being the center of my world that you can't stand the fact that Inias has known me for more than a million of your lifetimes. That I am more than what you need me to be at any given moment."

Dean was struck dumb. He had thought that Cas was oblivious to the effect all this had been having on Dean. He had expected to have to lay it all out for Cas. But instead, Cas had caught him by surprise with an assessment so harsh and so accurate that Dean had trouble coming up with a response.

Eventually, Cas's smile softened and became friendly instead of accusing. "I gave up everything for you," he said, "And I never asked for anything in return. Now I have someone who has made the same sacrifice for me. Don't make me choose between you."

"Why?" said Dean before he could bite his tongue, "Because you'd choose him?"

The smile finally slipped fully from Cas's face. "I said don't make me."

Dean rolled over, putting his back to Cas. After a few minutes, Cas quietly got up and left. Dean avoided Cas all the next day. And that night, when Cas returned to Dean's cabin, he found the door locked.


	3. Chapter 3

Maybe the sex sped up the process of Inias's falling, or maybe it would have happened anyway, but it was only a few days later that Inias reported that he could no longer teleport. Despite the surplus that they had built up, it didn't take long for supplies to dwindle to the point that Dean was forced to organize a mission into town.

"I know we're rusty," said Dean to the small crowd of volunteers. Cas and Inias were among them – Inias because he was eager to prove that he could be useful even without his powers, and Cas because he and Inias were joined at the hip these days. "But we all remember how this goes. Stick close to your squad. Get in, get what we need, and get out. Speed is key. Recon says that things should stay quiet, but don't forget that we're going into a hot zone."

The group broke apart and loaded into the trucks. Dean got into the driver's seat of his own truck and glanced in the rearview mirror to see that the two ex-angels had chosen to ride with him. As Cas leaned across to rest his head on Inias's shoulder, Dean twisted the mirror upwards so that he couldn't see. "Stay focused," he said, as much to himself as to his passengers.

They were on the road for an hour, a nervous little convoy passing through hostile territory, before they reached their destination: a small town with a cluster of convenience stores. It took a few minutes for everyone to unload from the trucks, find their weapons, and form up into a group. They were rustier than Dean had thought; that process should have taken mere seconds.

As they moved toward the first store on their route, Inias appeared at Dean's elbow. "Where is Castiel?" he asked uncertainly.

"He was with you," said Dean, refusing to get distracted.

"He's gone," said Inias.

Something about the tone of Inias's voice made Dean pause and scan the crowd. Sure enough, Cas was nowhere to be seen. Dean seethed quietly as he tried to remember the layout of the part of town they were in. Then it came to him. "There's a pharmacy two blocks over," he sighed, "He probably took off to raid it. He does that."

Inias's eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. "No, he doesn't," he said, "Castiel would never leave his post in time of battle." He looked so troubled that Dean suddenly felt guilty. Dean was used to the way Cas had become, so used to it that he sometimes forgot how different Cas had been back before he fell. For Inias, who had known Cas the soldier for so long, who hadn't witnessed the slow evolution toward Cas the hedonist, the contrast must have seemed even more dramatic.

"Look, it's not like that, okay?" said Dean, "If I had put him in charge of a squad, he'd be here. He only took off because he knows that this is a milk run, and that I have it under control. Got it?"

Inias didn't look completely convinced, but he did nod and say, "Yes."

Dean took another look at Inias, a closer look than he had given him since the time he had kept vigil over him while he slept. Inias had also changed. He was smaller, somehow, and awkward in a borrowed coat and pants that were too short and too wide for him. He clutched his rifle as if he wished it were a sword. In that moment, he reminded Dean intensely of Cas. They were both immense, ageless beings, but take away their powers and drop them in a war zone and they started to look an awful lot like children.

Dean sighed and grabbed Inias by the elbow, guiding him to the front of the line. "Stick close to me," he said. Inias nodded gratefully.

The inside of the store was a wreck, as most places were these days. Shelves were toppled, light fixtures hung by their power cords, and it didn't look like anything useful might be hiding under the rubble. But Dean had found supplies in even worse-looking places, so he called out to his team, "You know the drill! The shelves are picked over, but check all the back rooms. If there's a pile of debris, move it! There might be something underneath. We need canned food, dry goods, anything that'll keep. Medical supplies. Blankets. Batteries."

"Tampons!" Risa added as she shoved her way past Dean and into the store.

"Toilet paper!" said Chuck as he did the same.

"And condoms!" said Dean, "Condoms, birth control, and Plan B!" Early on, there had been talk of a responsibility to repopulate the world, but it hadn't taken long for everyone to agree that they needed soldiers more than they needed babies. Besides, with the world the way it was now, a pregnancy was as good as a death sentence. Birth control wasn't a luxury; it was a necessity.

"What should I do?" asked Inias, still following close behind Dean.

"Hold this open," said Dean, shoving an empty duffel bag into Inias's hands, "And follow me."

The store was even more picked over than Dean had anticipated. He only managed to find a few cans of food to throw into Inias's bag, and even those looked like they might be rusted through. Finally, Dean called the whole team back together and broke them into their squads. Each squad headed in a different direction down the block, seeking out other stores that would hopefully have more to offer.

Dean and Inias were left alone. Cas was also supposed to be on their squad, but he was still missing. Dean reminded himself that Cas always did this, and that he always reappeared, but it didn't do much to assuage his worrying.

Inias stared at Dean as if he were reading his mind.

"Quit looking at me like that," Dean muttered as he led the way into a small electronics store across the street.

"Like what?" said Inias innocently.

"Like you wanna bang me," said Dean before he could think better of it. Luckily, Inias chose not to reply.

The electronics store had quite a bit more to offer, and the duffel quickly filled with batteries and spare parts. Inias followed Dean dutifully up and down the aisles, holding the bag open and not saying a word. The silence was unnerving. Whenever Dean turned around, Inias was looking at him with that penetrating stare, and soon Dean was nearly crawling out of his skin with the awkwardness of it.

"I'll finish up here," said Dean, taking the bag from Inias, "Go check behind the front counter."

Inias nodded and turned to do as he was told. For a moment, Dean didn't go back to work. Instead, he watched Inias make the short walk back up the aisle toward the register. It was painfully clear how far he had fallen – Dean could see it in the slope of his shoulders and the way he seemed the slightest bit off-balance with each step. Cas had looked just the same, once. Dean wondered if it was because they hadn't gotten used to not being able to feel the weight of their wings.

Outside, the sun peeked out from behind a cloud and sent a shaft of light through the dusty window. The light fell in a puddle at Inias's feet, and there, just at the level of his ankle, there was a sudden metallic twinkle in the thin air.

Dean recognized it as a tripwire the very instant before Inias collided with it.

"Get down!" Dean shouted. While Inias stood there, looking quizzically down at the wire bending across his foot, Dean dropped the bag and his gun and sprinted the length of the aisle. He tackled Inias to the ground behind a low row of shelves just as a flash, a pop, and a shower of debris came from behind the register. They huddled there, panting, their hearts racing, as the last of the shrapnel hit the floor.

"What was that?" Inias gasped.

"Croat trap," said Dean. He tried to scramble to his feet, but Inias was still on top of him and they couldn't quite get their limbs to go the right way to get untangled. "We've gotta get out of here."

"Why?"

"They could have put enough boom in that thing to level the whole store," said Dean, "But they didn't. It was meant to maim us, not kill us. That means someone's on their way to pick up the pieces."

Dean finally managed to push Inias off of him, but when he tried to stand he found that his feet were tangled in a pile of power cords that had fallen off the shelf during the explosion. "Shit," he muttered as he yanked at the knotted mess.

"Dean," said Inias. He said it so calmly that Dean almost ignored him, choosing to focus on freeing himself, but then Inias said it again. "Dean!" And then Dean looked up. There was a man coming down the aisle toward them. He was a middle-aged dude in khakis and a polo shirt, a baseball cap mostly failing to hide a huge bald spot. He was pretty unremarkable except for the murderous glint in his eyes that Dean had learned to recognize so well.

"Shoot him!" Dean ordered Inias, but then he realized that Inias had dropped his gun back when Dean tackled him. All three pairs of eyes went to where it had skidded halfway under a shelf. The Croat was closest. He picked it up with a grin.

And that was when Dean realized that he was going to die. It came to him softly and easily, like finding out that he was having beans for lunch for the hundredth day in a row. No rage. No fear. Just a twinge of regret and a sort of stunned acceptance. It was simple math. He was trapped and unarmed; his enemy was bearing down on him. Dean was going to die on the floor of an electronics store in Illinois, and the only thing he hoped for was that he wouldn't be turned into a Croat first.

"Run," he said to Inias in those final seconds, "Run!"

But Inias did not run. With a motion so unhesitatingly smooth that Dean almost didn't register what was happening, Inias shifted himself to stand between Dean and the oncoming Croat. There he stood, silent and resolute, without a prayer of winning but with all the grace of a soldier of God.

"No!" Dean screamed, but the Croat had closed the gap and it was too late for either of them to get away now. Dean could only watch as the Croat held the barrel of Inias's rifle and swung it like a baseball bat, cracking Inias in the head with the butt of his own gun. Inias was knocked aside, crumpling to the ground, and Dean was left exposed.

"Got you this time, Winchester," the Croat sneered as he lifted the rifle.

Dean didn't close his eyes. He had seen enough death in his life that he wasn't about to look away when it was his turn. He stared down the barrel of his imminent doom, and that's why he had a perfect view when the rifle flew out of the Croat's hands with a sharp sound of metal on metal.

"What…" was all the Croat had time to say before Dean had launched himself off the floor and knocked him to the ground. Dean's feet were still hopelessly bound, but he managed to plant his knees on the Croat's shoulders, sit on his chest, and pin him while he used his hands to strangle the life out of him. He didn't have time to think about the fact that he hated killing people this way – so slow and intimate, feeling every twitch and every weakening pulse. He just did what he knew he had to do. Blood pounded in his ears as he pressed harder and harder, watching the Croat's eyes bug out and his tongue swell, crunching cartilage under his thumbs, and he only let go when there was no trace of movement under his hands.

Only then did he allow himself to look up and find out what had disarmed the Croat in the first place. There, framed in the doorway, was Cas. His pupils were so dilated that his irises nearly disappeared into them, and he was still holding his pistol aimed at the air where the Croat had been.

Dean tried to speak, but he only coughed. He cleared his throat, swallowed, and tried again, "Fuck! How the fuck did you manage to fucking shoot the fucking gun out of his fucking hands? You are not that good a fucking shot, especially when you're fucking high out of your fucking mind!" He hadn't been planning on including that much profanity, but it seemed appropriate.

Cas stared dazedly. "I was aiming for his head," he said.

From the ground, Inias groaned and began to lift himself up. And even through the drugs, Dean saw something in Cas's face, just for a split second, in the way his eyes flicked back and forth and in the way his body moved as if pulled in two directions. Faced with both Dean and Inias hurt, on the ground, he didn't know who to run to first.

So Dean didn't make him choose.

"Inias!" Dean called out. He finally managed to strip the power cords away from his feet as he scooted across the floor to where Inias was sitting up and holding his head. Cas joined them there, giving Dean the briefest of grateful nods.

There was a gash above Inias's right eye that was bleeding freely, and Dean was reasonably sure that the poor guy had a concussion, but Inias managed to return to the rendezvous with the rest of the group under his own power. The other squads had had better luck: full bags and zero casualties. They piled back into the trucks, eager to be home.

As Dean, Cas, and Inias approached their truck, Cas pulled Dean aside. Taking Dean's face in his hands, he slurred, "I'm sorry I left you."

Dean laughed a little to himself. Cas was so out of it that he might not even remember any of this later. Still, Dean squeezed Cas's shoulder and answered, "Hey, as long as you always come back."

Then Cas crawled into the back seat and promptly fell asleep.

Inias almost joined Cas, but Dean grabbed him and steered him toward the front passenger door. "Oh, no you don't," said Dean, "You sit up here where I can keep an eye on you. I don't want you falling asleep back there and having a stroke or something." He installed Inias in the passenger seat, buckling him in and checking his wound again. It was still bleeding. Dean ducked into the back seat to fish out a fresh bandage. "Keep pressure on it," he advised, "We'll patch you up when we get back."

"Thank you," said Inias.

Dean began to drive, and for a long time the only sound in the truck was that of Cas's gentle snoring. Every once in a while, Dean would glance in the rearview mirror at his sleeping form. Slightly more often, he would turn his head to look at Inias, where he sat hunched over miserably holding the bandage to his head.

"You still with me?" Dean said.

"I'll be fine," said Inias. Dean began to wonder if God had hardwired all the angels to be self-sacrificing morons.

"He could have shot you," he said, "That Croat, back in town. He could have killed you, or infected you. It's dumb luck that you're still alive."

Inias dropped the bandage long enough to give Dean an enigmatic smile. "That crossed my mind," he said.

Dean shook his head. "Why'd you do it?" he asked, "Why didn't you run?"

"How could I have faced Castiel if I had left you, the man he loves, to die?" said Inias simply.

Dean laughed so suddenly and so loudly that he had to check to make sure he hadn't woken Cas. "'The man he loves,'" he echoed bitterly, "If I am that."

Inias squinted at Dean. "Of course you are," he said, "Has Castiel not proved his love for you time and again?"

"No, of course he…" Dean stammered, taken off guard, "That's not what I meant. It's just… he has you now."

A trickle of blood pooled in Inias's eyebrow. He replaced the bandage, sopping it up, as he said, "Castiel has had me since before the dawn of humankind. Through all those eons, he could have said a word and I would have been his. And yet it was you, a mere human, who finally opened his heart to that kind of love. Over all of his brothers and sisters, over his mission, even over our father, he chose you." The bandage mostly obscured his face as he spoke, but Dean thought he could hear a sort of wistful sadness in his voice. Suddenly Dean was acutely aware of just how old Castiel was. He tried to imagine loving someone for that long, only to see them fall for someone else.

"Sorry," he grunted.

"I do not begrudge you that," said Inias without a hint of dishonesty, "I'm glad that he loves you." Then, quietly, he added, "And I am beginning to understand how he feels."

* * *

Dean left his cabin door unlocked that night, but Cas didn't come. That wasn't unexpected. Dean figured he was busy playing nursemaid to Inias. But he didn't come the next night, or the next either, until the situation became clear even to Dean.

Dean had shut Cas out, and Dean would have to be the one to mend that bridge.

On the fourth night, Dean slinked across the grounds and onto Cas's front step. The door still hadn't been fixed. It was just a sheet of heavy cloth hanging over the frame. Dean was about to push it aside when he heard something: the creak of bedsprings mixed with hushed voices, and the dull whisper of clothes hitting the wooden floor.

He turned to go, but just as he was about to take his first step, the noises stopped. He paused, and in that moment a hand darted out from behind the makeshift door and grabbed his wrist. "Dean," Cas greeted him, shirtless, hair tousled, smiling lazily. But his eyes were clear and his voice focused, which made Dean think he might be sober for once.

"Hey, Cas." Dean wanted to explain that he understood. That it was okay that Cas loved Inias. That Dean could learn to share, and that all he asked was for Cas to visit him every once in a while, and warm his bed as he always had. But all that came out was, "My door is open."

Cas's smile broadened. "So is mine," he said as he pulled Dean inside.

The air in the cabin was warm and thick with incense. Inias sat on the bed, his shirt unbuttoned, looking as confused as Dean felt. "What…" Dean tried to ask, but he couldn't quite find the will to protest as Cas led him toward the bed.

"Shh," said Cas. Still holding Dean's wrist, he leaned over the bed and gave Inias a kiss. Inias returned it shyly. Then Cas straightened, turned, and gave the same to Dean. Dean was somewhat more enthusiastic. It had been far too long since he had tasted Cas's hot, sweet mouth. He started to wrap his arms around Cas, to pull him in closer, but Cas pushed him gently away. With an air of finality, Cas put one hand on the back of Dean's head and the other on the back of Inias's, and guided their faces slowly together.

And in the end, the most surprising thing about it was how very short a time they hesitated before surrendering to it. Dean's eyes met Inias's for just a second as they approached each other, and in that second they understood each other. No words required. In fact, Dean wasn't sure if he could have put it into words even if he had had the time.

Their lips met tentatively, then closed over each other easily, and then Inias brought his hand up to Dean's face, and Dean was falling, falling into him and into bed, and Cas was following him down. They landed, the three of them, in a tangle of limbs, and Dean lost track of which one he was kissing.

* * *

After, it took them a long time to unravel themselves from the heap where they had all finally collapsed in on each other, but eventually Dean made his way to the edge of the bed. He found a bag of weed and some rolling papers in the bedside drawer, right where he knew they'd be. He fumbled with them for a few minutes until Cas crawled over and took them out of his hands. Cas rolled him a joint in record time, gave him a peck on the cheek, and then crawled back over to Inias. He installed himself there, his chest to Inias's back, while Dean lit the joint and took a long, slow drag. The heat hit his lungs just as a breeze from the open windows chilled the sweat on his back, and he shivered as the smoke poured back out from between his lips.

Dean picked his feet up off the cold floor to sit cross-legged on the bed, turning to face Cas and Inias. Cas's face was buried in Inias's hair. Inias's hands gripped Cas's wrists and drew his arms tighter around his body. They were whispering to each other in Enochian, and for once Dean didn't wonder what they were saying. He just enjoyed the happy rumble of their voices as he took another puff of his joint.

After so many years of uncertainty and unhappiness, never knowing where or how the next hit would come, Dean was surprised to find that he felt solid for once. Those voices, the sight of their bodies twined together and their eyes looking into each other so full of love, grounded him. Dean had gotten used to losing people, so it was always a strange sort of shock when he managed to gain someone. It reminded him of what it was like to be something more than a man clinging to his one life raft at the expense of all else.

He had clung to his father, and lost Sam. Clung to Sam, lost Dad. Clung to Cas, lost Sam again. Again and again, life had taught Dean that there was only room in his life and in his heart for one person at a time.

But then, here he was, happy, and near bursting with love for both the angels before him. And for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to remember what it had been like to have a family.

"Cas?" Dean said.

Cas stopped murmuring in Inias's ear mid-word to look up at Dean. "Mm?"

Dean took another drag of the joint, and something slipped onto his face that had been missing for so long that it had almost forgotten how to form: a genuine smile.

"I think it's time I looked up Sam."


End file.
